Eye of the Storm
by ode to the seventh
Summary: Why anybody? / Silver, Lyra


**- : eye of the storm : -**

I'm sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room of Saffron Memorial Hospital, eyes closed with white knuckles from gripping my knees as tightly as I can in order to evade lashing out at the doctor before me. The doctor is, no doubt, a good man, with many medical degrees for human and Pokémon treatment both, an old friend of Lyra's from way back when she attended Trainer School in Cherrygrove. He's an open man, with a round, peachy face and many years' worth of laughter etched into the corners of his eyes. But at the moment, the good, open man that I've amicable chats with over coffee at class reunions of Lyra's wears a tragic expression, lines of laughter turned down in a way that reminds me of Lyra's face when she first saw me being cruel to Totodile after our first battle.

"You're being too quiet," I snap. Lyra is still in Room 1313, three floors too far. Without her by my side, I feel as though I'm missing a piece of me, and my fingers itch to wrap around her slender forearm and take her hand in mine, knowing that I'll feel her smaller fingers hug the flat of my palm to hers.

"Silver," the doctor gasps out after another short pause. "Silver, I'm so sorry."

My blood runs cold and the grip that I hold on my knees slackens. "What? Sorry for what?"

"It's, uh, intracranial pressure." Lyra's old friend has tears gathered in his eyes but he attempts to stay professional and uncaring, ending up with a wet, rigid face as though he's been shot in the chest, unable to register that he's dying but feeling the pain all the same. "Too deep for help. It's inoperable."

I feel numb, emptied out. I can't recognize anything except for the pain of crescent moons carved into my palms, and I can't hear anything except for the words of the good doctor and my blood pounding in my ears.

"How long?" I choke out after a long while. "How long do we have?" The doctor makes no comment that I have said we. We is for how long we both have left together, because Lyra will not be alone when she dies. I will die with her, but I won't die in the same way. She will wilt. I will wither.

"Two weeks, at the very most, on the outside."

"What are the symptoms?" My throat is dry and my eyes are wet. It is the opposite of what they have been since I've been a child, and though I'm not used to the feeling, I find that it's strangely familiar.

Lyra's old friend coughs into his fist and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Aphasia, muscle weakness, and mental deterioration. And pain. Plenty of pain." He pauses to take in a sharp breath. "Enough for a lifetime."

I stand to make my way upstairs but the doctor grabs my arm, pulling me back. I turn back to Lyra's old friend and try not to scowl and glare and pout. I need to get to Lyra.

"Silver, I'm so, so sorry. We can get her a room at the hospital. We can make her comfortable until the end."

The end. The end of Lyra. _Oh my Arceus._ I feel my eyes gloss over with unshed tears at the thought and push away from the good doctor.

"It's fine," I bite out, and turn away from Lyra's old friend bitterly. "We're fine."

* * *

On the walk back to our lodging at the Saffron Pokémon Center, Lyra is quiet, and I hold her hand as tightly as I can without hurting her. She's wearing her regular clothes that she's worn since we were teenagers, and the air of innocence that surrounds her sends a pain through my chest that's foreign and cold.

Briefly, I wonder if this is the kind of pain that turned my father into whatever he had been when we were all younger. I had never known my mother, but I have learned through years of a rekindling paternal relationship with my father that she was just like Lyra has always been. I know that my father loves Lyra almost as much as I do, if only because she's made me a better person. She is the girl who has returned an estranged criminal's son to him and fixed both of their hearts.

Lyra has not only saved me, but she has saved my father. I realize, jaw slackening as we pass a laughing couple, each holding the hand of a little boy, that I will not be the only person to suffer when she is gone. Not only will I lose the love of my life. My father will lose the girl who has saved him and the woman who has brought him and his only remaining family happiness.

We arrive at the Pokémon Center and stand at the base of the stairs. Lyra stares up them, troubled, and I know that she's frightened. All of the stairs, all of the obstacles, standing in our way. She can't even walk up them without tumbling and risking everything she has left.

"Silver?" she starts nervously, wetting her lips and turning to me. She's so small, wide brown eyes childlike and curious. "I… I can't." I can hardly imagine what's going on in her mind, the thoughts racing through a brain that will deteriorate and eventually break down within a matter of weeks. Her fists are clenched in a show of anger, and I don't blame her one bit, because I've always been angry at the littlest things, and she's always been so complacent. She deserves this feeling. She deserves to be angry at the unfairness of it all.

"Don't worry," I tell her. I know that my words won't keep her from worrying. Her worrying about me, about my father, about Gold and her mother and our Pokémon - the _Pokémon _- will kill her before the tumor in her brain gets the chance to. "You don't need to worry. I've got you."

* * *

We're one week in and Lyra is worsening by the hour. She's cheering about making it back to our room from visiting the family just down the hall, not fifty feet away. I've tried to get her to let me help her down to their room, where she likes to visit with the slightly older couples' twin boys, because she needs to lean against the wall to make it even that far, but she refuses adamantly every time. So while she visits with the family, as she loves children almost as much as she loves our Pokémon and her family, I go out to get food and other staples.

"Silver, look. I made it all the way back!"

"Good," I tell her with an off chuckle. My voice cracks a bit toward the end, but it seems that she doesn't notice. She does a proud twirl and laughs, though it soon turns breathy and tired. In an attempt to hide her exhaustion, as I know that she always does anymore, she sits down on her bed in front of me and puts her elbows on her knees, balancing her chin on her palms.

"Silver. I just realized it's going to be Christmas soon." I nod, acting as though it is, though it's still nearly two months away. Nine weeks too late. "Can I ask for my Christmas present early?"

My blood pounds in my ears and my heart wrenches in my chest. "Yeah, you can."

"I'd like to go home to New Bark for Christmas and have everybody over, one at a time, to hand out presents and talk." She smiles. It's raw and genuine and I know that she wants it more than anything in the world. "Is that okay?"

I don't need to be able to read her as well as I do to know what she's implying. "Of course. Of course that's okay." My heart is trapped in my throat, suffocating me. I can't breathe. I'm going to fall apart, losing her like this.

Lyra claps her hands a few times with glee and fishes her Pokégear out of her overalls pocket to flick through the countless numbers she has dialed in and select the numbers of the closest Dex Holders and our combined family.

The list is forgivingly short. Red. Blue. Green. Yellow. Gold. Father. Lyra's mother. They are all close and they know what's going on, but they all act as though they don't. If not for Lyra, then for who?

"When should we do it?" Her eyes are large and happy, and I know that this is her way of being selfless. Acting like nothing's wrong, trying to make things easier for everyone by being the same Lyra that we all know, cheerful and just a little bit oblivious. She wants us all to think that she isn't suffering, even if she is.

"Whenever you want to, Lyra. Sooner or later."

"Let's do later."

I'm puzzled for a moment. "Why later?" We both know that my confusion is because she needs to stay in Saffron for as long as possible, but it's so obvious that she wants to go home soon. She could need medical attention at any moment. She could start to go too soon, and nobody is ready for that. Not even she is.

"I want to spend as much time with you as possible, of course. If that's okay with you, I mean." Her face develops a soft flush that isn't comparable to a flower or a proud Pokémon who's won a battle for their Trainer. All that I'm able to link the color to is a soft sunset, the time of day in which the sun is disappearing from sight, going away and taking all of its light with it, yet providing an incomparable warmth and the most exquisite shades of pink and gold with the brightest stars of white already appearing as it falls past the horizon line. When I put the thought together in its entirety, though, my stomach knots and my face goes ashen, because Lyra might as well be the sunset. She'll provide all of us as much light as she can in her remaining time, but it will be weak and unlike her normal brightness, and eventually, she will fall out of sight. All that will be left is the whiteness of the stars far past us, the ghostly pallor of a dying girl.

Instead of embracing her like I so desperately want to, I settle for ruffling her hair like I would have if none of this had happened. I don't tell her that I love her more than anything and that if Christmas wishes came true, I would wish that I could make all of this stop.

* * *

We're back in New Bark and staying at Lyra's mother's house instead of the apartment that we've been living in in Ecruteak, right next to the Bell Tower, for the past few years. Her mother is strong and does her best to act normal for her beloved daughter, but she can't hold back her tears when Lyra stumbles and nearly falls down the stairs on the way up to her room. Even though she protests, I give her a piggyback ride up. Both Pyre, Lyra's Typhlosion, and Feraligatr stand at the bottom of the stairs in case I trip. When we get to her room, Pyre and Feraligatr follow us up. Lyra looks around, taking in the fact that her bedroom is essentially the same. She has her mother to thank for always keeping her room in order for when we visit. But soon she won't need to any more. The thought makes a pang thrum in my chest, and my eyes burn.

After Lyra gets a good look at her bedroom, takes up the photograph of her with Gold and me at the National Park and plucks it out of its frame to put it in her pocket, we go back downstairs. Immediately, she grins and leads me to the utility closet beneath the stairs leading up to her room. We both heft up a box of Christmas decorations, though I make sure as she's looking away, toward Pyre, that hers is no more than ten pounds, and drop them onto the couch in the living room.

For the next two hours, we weave tinsel into the window curtain racks and around the doorways of the main floor, hanging baubles from lamps and door handles and bells around the corners of the room. The fireplace is lit and we go outside to tinsel the doorway. None of the neighbors ask why we're decorating for Christmas in October. I know that Lyra's mother has spread the word, and the neighborhood is silent. When I look up to the laboratory off to the west, if only to satiate my own curiosity, I see Professor Elm standing in the window, looking out into the cool, damp evening, and I see that there are tears on his cheeks and his lips are set into a hard line. It's difficult for everybody, and the load never gets any lighter.

* * *

We had decided before we arrived in New Bark that we would dedicate five days to Lyra's mother. The second to last day was to be reserved for visits and exchanges of quick words and goodbyes. The last would be for us. It is the second to last day, and as soon as we wake up, the visitors begin to flow in. Lyra doesn't move much, because the aphasia is severe and she can't see well. She dresses normally, though. She wants things to be as normal as they have ever been, and I respect that wish.

The first person to visit is Red. He doesn't speak for a long while, just as usual, but is content to hear Lyra talk with him comfortably, both sitting on the covers of her twin sized bed with their legs pulled to their chests. For the first time, I see that his hat is off in a clear sign of respect, and Pikachu is curled up between them with his ears pulled back and one of his paws placed on top of Lyra's hand. When the two leave, Red acts normally, as we had all planned, except when he stands in the doorway next to Lyra and he touches her hand kindly, a familial gesture, leaning down to whisper something into her ear. When he pulls away, I see that Lyra has tears gathered in her eyes and she's nodding, smiling gently. They both send glances over to me that I act like I don't see, and exchange a quick familial hug. Then Red is out the door, into the midst of the chilly October morning, through the tinsel and baubles and bells hung in the doorway.

Next is Yellow. She's just after Red, wanting to give Lyra a few words in the privacy of her room without anybody else around. The short blonde emerges after nearly half an hour with a wet face and a haunted expression, and I know immediately that things haven't gone so well, not because Lyra was cruel - because Lyra is never cruel or rude, especially on her deathbed, of all places - but because Yellow has realized to the fullest extent that this is all the time that we have left.

She grips my shirt in her hands and looks up at me with tears in her eyes, standing on the tips of her toes in an attempt to be able to hush her voice more than usual. I lead her over to the couch and sit down next to her, knowing that Lyra will not come downstairs to join us. She doesn't have the energy left. "Why her?" Her lip trembles, and warm, fat beads of water roll down her face to splash in her lap. "Of all people, why Lyra?" I don't have any words for her, so I just rub her back and attempt to comfort her even though I know exactly what she's feeling and worse. I have gotten to the point of resigned numbness.

Father is third. I'm in the room when he speaks with Lyra, and so I hear every single word that he says. If I were to say that I am not concerned for my father's impending depression, I would be lying. He is mortified beyond belief, normally slicked hair a mess and dark eyes bloodshot. I'm positive that I look the same, but to see such a thing in the man who has been previously categorized as the single most terrifying human being the world has ever seen frightens me. My father clutches at Lyra's hands and sobs into her shoulder, and he cries not for his lost wife, but for Lyra. The power in that very fact, the proof that he has moved on and finally found a person that he might love not as a significant other but as a daughter, as well as a link between him and his son, is tragic. He and I are not so different, I realize. We have both lost the people we love most in our lives. We have both lost Lyra.

After Father leaves, Blue and Green arrive. They both spend a long time in Lyra's room, and as far as I can tell, they both act normally. Nearly an hour and a half passes and Green steps out into the living room with me, sitting on the couch beside me with a sullen look on his face. He explains that Lyra wants to have a word with Blue in private, and both of us agree that such a simple thing can't not be granted for the single most selfless person we have known for all of our years.

When Blue trails in almost another hour later, the sky is dark and Green is pacing the room frantically, ready to shout at the top of his lungs that the entire situation isn't fair. We are all aware that it isn't fair, much more than any of us want to be, though, so he remains silent. Blue's face is barren of tears, but her eyes are dark and hooded and she beckons me closer with a voice that's deep and tremulous.

"Silver. I can't say that I know what you think of this situation or the pain that you feel. I can't say that what she's going through isn't painful. I can say that she's dying and you're all that she's thinking of." I choke on the violent thrumming of my heart, the loud clatter of what sounds like ribs bouncing against each other, rattling on and on, strong in my ears. I'm speechless. "She asked me to look after you. When she's gone, I mean. You'll need someone to make sure that you're okay."

I remain silent and nod. There aren't any words that can be arranged to describe the tear that runs down my middle, yawning wide and hollow.

Blue nods tersely and sniffs, giving me a tight hug then dashing out into the chilling evening, Green right on her heels.

Last is Gold. I think that he's the only person that I can fully stand to be around at the moment, because I am well aware that the pain that we feel is very similar, not as close as mine and my father's. I appreciate the difference. His pain is that of a brother losing his little sister and a lifetime friend. Mine is that of a lost savior and a lost romance. In a way, though, she's saved us both, and we both love her with all of our hearts.

He's a horrible actor, and there are tears from the moment that he bolts into Lyra's bedroom. I like that honest part of him, though. Lyra does, too. I feel badly for Gold, because he's spent his whole life with her and yet he has to say goodbye so early on. He's good to her, bringing over the copious amount of photo albums that he has of the two of them and the other three that he has arranged of the three of us. He leaves four hours later, having to be helped down the stairs because he can't see through his swimming vision.

In the doorway, he grabs my upper arms and supports himself as such, lips shaking, pulling me down to his eye level so that he doesn't have to strain his wavering voice.

"You're good to her. Keep doing that." His words break off and he can't speak much longer through the relentless tears that choke him up. "Please, Silver. Just keep being good. She wants it so much. She's worked so hard. For all of us."

"I know." I ignore that my own voice won't stop cracking and trembling. "I know."

Gold takes in a sharp breath that hurts to hear, as though he's had the breath knocked out of him while he's underwater. In a sense, it's more rational than any thought I've had in the past few weeks. He's drowning and the one person who can fish him out is the lone reason he's fallen under.

"You know, Yellow was terrified. Asked me, "_Why her? Why Lyra?_". I keep asking myself the same question."

His eyes narrow and his expression is grim. "Why anybody?"

I swallow the raw feeling in my throat and push myself to answer. "But we need her. Everybody needs her. People like Lyra - they're too good, Gold. Nobody knows what she does. How much she does."

"We do. To the fullest extent."

"I thought there was all the time in the world, Gold. I never thought there would be an end."

He barks out a short, injured laugh. "That's the thing about people like Lyra, Silver. Nobody ever does."

* * *

Gold leaves, and I wander back up to Lyra's room. She can barely stand a bit of weak firelight because her headache is so severe, and she has trouble putting her words into sentences. She is completely unable to stand, and my heart is wrenching.

"Silver." She looks at me and waits, gentle and calm. "I think I'll go to bed. Yeah?"

I try to put in a weak laugh and lighten the mood with a teasing statement. "Never thought I'd hear that from the girl who stays up all night to stare at the sky or go for walks in the rain."

Lyra smiles. "What else is a girl to do when her work is done?"

Done. My face falls.

"I never thought this would happen," I tell her softly. "I thought I would spend the rest of my life with you. I really did."

I sit next to her on her small bed and she leans her head on my shoulder. "I guess I'm lucky, in a way, then," Lyra hums. I send her a questioning glance and she looks up into my eyes steadily. "I get to spend the rest of my life with you."

Completely of my own free will, I splinter and break, and Lyra holds me together as I sob into her hair and the thin of her throat, holding on to her with all of the power that I have left. She doesn't complain, even though we both know well enough that it must hurt to have me grabbing at her back and pulling her as close as I can to myself, as though I'm attempting to pull her into me. I entertain the thought. If we are one person, we will die together and never have to live without each other. I know that it's a selfish notion, though, and she wants me to keep living, if only for our Pokémon and everybody else that she'll leave behind.

We both eventually fall asleep curled around each other in the early hours of the morning, and when I wake up only hours later, she doesn't.

**- : O : -**

**A/N:** Done! (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ*:･ﾟʸᵉᵃʰᵎ

Thanks to everybody who read this weird thing, and sorry for any tables flipped (i.e.: (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ 彡┻━┻), tears shed (i.e.: ಥ_ಥ), or the two put together into some sort of unholy combination (i.e.: (ノಥ益ಥ)ノ彡┻━┻), if there were any at all, ever. I had fun writing this in a morbid, twisted way. I was just sitting in my room listening to music on YouTube, and I just thought to myself, "I MUST WRITE." So, uh, yeah. This happened. (Sorry.)

Just as a by-the-way, this was intended to be a mesh of both the mangaverse and the gameverse, mostly because I love Yellow but I needed Lyra to make everything dramatic (as well as the fact that I absolutely adore Lyra as a character). I hope I didn't offend anybody with my awkward way of explaining things or my confusing way of mixing two completely different verses together.

Basically, everything's exactly like that in the game, except Yellow is in it. Because guh, Yellow is just fantastic and Red needs somebody to be the Honey Bunches to his Oats.

That's my new quote, guys. "Red needs somebody to be the Honey Bunches to his Oats." Quote, copyright, ode to the seventh, 2014. I'm amazing.

Yep. I don't even know. ٩(´・ω・`)۶

If you're still reading this you should know that I, somehow, unwittingly wrote this so that it coincides perfectly for When She Loved Me from Toy Story 2. Silver with his big red braids and his bad case of the grumps. D'aw, it's okay, Silver. Lyra will be back later. Maybe.

Reviews help me improve and such, as well as encourage me to write more and with better quality (jazz hands to the slop of words above the markings). I love when people who have the time or want to send me words of encouragement to pick up the snail-mail pace just drop in a few words (a.k.a., hopefully you)! Leave a review telling me if you loved it or hated it or are somewhere in the weird zone in between, and what I need to work on. It really helps me out.

If you loved it: ヽ(*ơ ヮơ)ﾉ･ﾟℒℴѵℯ

If you hated it: **NO. **(ノಠ дಠ)ノ彡ヽ(*ơ ヮơ)ﾉᵒᵐᵍᵎᵎᵎ

If you're in that weird zone: ヽ(*･ω･)ﾉᵒᵏᵎᵎᵎᵎ

Feel free to use sentences to tell me what you think and give me a bit of feedback. It's always appreciated, and it'll get you an extra chance at the Animal Crossing: New Leaf "lottery" game, for which more background info is available on my profile. Please check it out - I've planned it to be a lot of fun, and the rewards for winning are very generous.

Thanks for reading!٩(*ơ ヮơ)۶ʸᵉᵃʰᵎᵎᵎᵎ


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